This week Santa Claus’ good old friend Captain Hangover visited for an endeavour known in human circles as “socialising”. It’s been clear from all the years Santa has written these columns for us, he’s more of a sadistic loner than a socialite.

However, he and Captain Hangover got on super well. It’s nice to see. This week it’s a lovely, heart-warming, endearing, charming, only mildly worrying account of Father Christmas doing his thing (i.e. shirking his duties until the very last moment).

Santa Has Lost His Slippers!

Santa’s day began at 6am with a nasty SOB bastard of a hangover. I was in my office. The factory was freezing cold! So goddamn cold bloody ice stalactites had formed in the office. Shivvering like a madman, Santa staggered up and began looking for my slippers.

Where are my slippers?

“WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE THEY!?” I bellowed to myself.

Rummaging around the office I couldn’t bloody well find the goddamn bloody things and so became increasingly furious with each passing minute and continued bellowing sweet bloody murder. My head elf, Markus, heard this kerfuffle and came into the office. He helped me search for the slippers. They could not be found! Nowhere.

“THAT BASTARD RUDOLPH MUST HAVE EATED THEM!” I raged.

Markus informed me Rudolph was currently wintering in the South Pole on a marketing campaign for Father Christmas. Thus, it wasn’t Rudolph. Thus, I accused Markus of eating my slippers. Markus replied that the only food he’d eaten in the last week was instant noodles as that’s all Nurse Doreen has in stock in the canteen. I told him to quit his snowflake whining and grow a pair.

Markus went off to turn the factory’s central heating on.

It was the first time since December 2023 the contraption had been “fired up” (as it were) and it was in such a state of disrepair that when Markus did “fire it up” the machine malfunctioned and began belching out huge plumes of black smoke. Markus did the sensible health & safety thing and left the contraption to it. It’s pelting out reams of black smoke, but the heating is on and Santa feels warm and snug again.

Just my blasted slippers are lost.

They’re really nice slippers, too, with fluffy inner linings to keep my toes warm and those bastard chilblains away! Because my gout is bad enough as it is and I don’t need chilblains joining the foot party.

Anyway, while Santa sat in my office drinking gin from the bottle Markus gave me some news. My dear old friend Captain Hangover, a superhero in his day job, was visiting today for a spot of tea.

Captain Hangover Arrives for a Spot of Tea

The thing about Captain Hangover is he’s a superhero but just not a very good one. He’s supposed to go around the world curing people’s hangovers, but because he himself is constantly hungover he just usually can’t be bothered. Instead, he spends his time listless, fatigued, nauseous, and needs to have regular lie downs. Santa thinks he’s an incredibly unreliable superhero and a bit of a dickhead.

Santa hasn’t seen Captain Hangover since his last visit to the factory in 1988. On that occasion he arrived very hungover and had a total of 37 naps during his two day visit.

This year, he once again arrived extremely hungover and immediately needed to take a nap.

This irked Santa enormously because Captain Hangover’s hangover was more impressive than mine on this particular day. Outraged (and also a bit drunk from the gin I’d been hitting), but not to be outdone (ever), Santa also had a kip right there on the floor and began snoring uproariously. Captain Hangover realised it was competition game on and also began snoring very loud. In the end us two were there sprawled out on the floor snoring, belching, letting rip, and drooling everywhere.

Santa is a humble type of man and as you’d expect I won the hangover contest. Easily. That bastard wasn’t even a country mile within the level of EXCELLENCE I brought to the hangover. Even though, by that point, I was getting half sloshed and wasn’t really that hungover now. Such is the level of brilliance I bring to everything Santa applies myself to.

At 1pm we both got up and finally got round to having a “spot of tea” (gin) in Santa’s office.

“How are you doing, you old swine?” Captain Hangover said in a futile attempt at jovial joshing.

“You’re hungover again, aren’t you?” Santa sneered down at Captain Hangover.

He tried to laugh it off and agreed that he was, indeed, very hungover. Santa reminded Captain Hangover that he had been hungover on his last visit in 1988, too.

Captain Hangover asked Santa if I held any “bitter resentment” over the 1988 visit.

Santa mulled this over.

He must have realised I was getting pretty angry because he commented that my face had turned “very red”, to which I quipped that it was just Santa’s high blood pressure kicking in.

“Because I’m so goddamn manly and not a snowflake like Captain ‘Fuddy Duddy’ Hangover is here and that’s you, that is. Deal with it”

A tense standoff followed while Santa sat there with a rightfully smug grin on my face feeling all superior to my new nemesis. In that instant it was clear we were no longer friends. Instead, we now enemies (the EXACT OPPOSITE of what friends are supposed to be).

“What is the meaning of your being hero, fool?” Santa snarled at him.

The Reason for Captain Hangover’s Visit

Captain Hangover did provide the reason for his visit. Unfortunately, as Santa was pretty wasted by the time he divulged the information, I totally forgot about what the reason was.

It was only the next day, when my visitor had fled the premises, that I got a memory jolt. A small marketing pamphlet he’d left me… hungover, Santa rubbed at his bleary bloodshot eyes, belched exuberantly, and read over the small business propaganda.

THE HUNGOVER LAUNDROMAT!

BRING YOUR DIRTY UNDIES TO CAPTAIN HANGOVER’S EXCITING NEW BUSINESS ENTERPRISE!!

OUR LAUNDROMAT HAS WASHING MACHINES, TUMBLE DRYERS, AND A GRUMPY AND HUNGOVER BOSS READY TO CHASE YOU OUT OF THE STORE IF YOU ANNOY HIM!!!

COME ON DOWN TODAY TO WASH THE CURRY STAINS OFF YOUR SKINNY JEANS!!!!

Markus was standing dutifully beside my hungover frame as Santa was sprawled out on the floor. I looked at Markus. Markus looked at me.

“Why did he come here to give me this, Markus?”

“Sir, I think he wants to use your global credibility to plug his new small business.”

“Tell him to fuck off!”

“Sir, he’s adamant and willing to pay twenty million in marketing fees if you promote the business.”

Santa near shat his Santa pants.

Santa Claus Endorses Captain Hangover’s Laundromat

Turns out he got the marketing money from his ex-wife who was rich and after they divorced he got $20 million. He’s blowing it all on a chance on the big time. A risk taker. Santa likes it. And so, once I’d pocketed the money, Santa dutifully did my bit.

I got Markus, my head elf, to drape a banner outside the factor gates stating:

GET YOU’RE LAUNDRY DONE AT CAPTAIN HUNGOVER’S LAUNDROMAT YOU BASTARDS

With the rest of the money Santa ordered in $19.9999 million worth of alcohol. It arrived the next day. As did Captain Hangover for an update on his marketing. He arrived a little worse for wear with a pounding headache. But he was excited to see how I was using my business guile to make him super rich.

Santa led him out to the front of the factory and pointed a big fat finger at the banner.

Captain Hangover said, “Is that it?”

“What do you mean, ‘Is that it?’?”

“I mean, is that what I spent all that money on?”

“Yes, you ungrateful bastard!”

Anyway, to cut a longer story shorter, he wasn’t happy with the marketing materials and has instigated a lawsuit against me for breach of contract. Of course, I’d forgotten I’d signed a contract… it was easier to just kidnap Captain Hangover to avoid any further bother on this one.

Santa had Rudolph spring him when he was having one of his lie downs. He’s now wrapped up in chains in the cellar sleeping off his pounding head.

“Probably will do him good!” Santa belched between slugs of gin, vodka, tequila, and advocaat.

The following day, when Santa came too naked while draped over a mop and bucket in the reception area of the factory, Markus informed me a storm had blown the banner down during the night. Santa laughed. Then I had a slugged of gin.